The Lost One
by kincaid1
Summary: *chapter 2 updated!* an elf, alone with his fears and secrets. Does he know who he is and will he ever be able to tell? Pls R+R!*poss. slash lateron*
1. the cave

It was dark and gloomy inside the small cave.

Dampness glistened on the uneven walls, moss grew here and there in small dark places. The twighlight outside made the light leave fast –

´over here, it´s relatively dry, here I think we could spend the night ..´

I could hardly make out his form advancing farther into the fast falling darkness.

 ´wait…I can´t see you …´

my hand outstretched met his arm, then his fingers, he fastened his grip on mine. 

´..here, hold on, it´s not far now´

´how can you see inside here, I can hardly make out a thing…´

I stopped  talking, remembering. It was his race, ..though he did not resemble anything near the normal looks of his kin in his present state.

 I was awed at the way he handled himself and our situation in his current physical and mental condition.

The small light of the fire drew dancing shadows on the walls, on our faces.

His long, graceful fingers, dirty and black from smoot and ash, worked on the tip of an arrow.

 I sat with my arms around my knees, huddled together, trying to get some warmth from the fire, store it, prepare myself for the cold, long night. 

The short stubbles on the patches of what was left of his hair left him ghostlike, gave him an almost ethereal fragility especially in this light.

He couldn´t have eaten much during…the past time, before I met him…I was sure, he was not the scrawny type by nature, he just looked heartachingly thin. 

When he looked up at me, huge eyes, smudged with coal, his skin seemed so light, almost translucent…

´I know you are cold, I am sorry I can not offer you more … protection´

 I hugged myself tighter , hoping with all my heart the smile I gave him now would also raise his spirits as me meeting him had raised mine.

´don´t worry about me now, ..how do you feel?´

I leaned forward, reaching out for his wrist , touching it lightly. He didn´t react to well to physical contact, so I tried not to forget that and avoid touching him as far this was possible. 

´let me see you…´

we had already tried to clean and tend to the worst of his cuts, since then, I tried to check on these and the bruises every night. 

I had no idea what I could do, if one of them got infected. Actually, I did not want to think about it. 

But then, maybe he and the healing practices of his people could have saved him anyway? I was not sure. I just tried to be of help, since  I couldn´t do much in addition, apart from trying not to be a nuisance or an obstacle to him. I felt strangely protective of him, though; on the other hand, I knew, I wouldn´t stand a chance should he have to depend on me to defend the two of us. 

He laid the arrow he had been working on aside, and turned towards me. I got up an my knees in front of him.

He didn´t say anything, it worried me a little, that he did what I asked him to do without even objecting a little bit,

 as if he wanted me to tell him what to do, just not to think about anything, almost mechanically.

I looked at him, trying to hold and meet his gaze as best as I could in the light of the fire, turned the side of his head into the light, mindful of making my touch lithe, checking out the gash on his cheek and and the areas where it looked as if someone or something had scraped off his skin deliberately, the small cuts in his scalp that resulted from crudely cutting off his hair. Who could do such a thing?

The thought of someone, something out there capable of hurting, deliberately handling someone in such a way, made me shiver in helplessness. 

He had very delicate features, once you looked at him closer.  I had discovered that earlier.

Finely cut brows arching over large crystal grey eyes, high cheekbones, he must have been a handsome man once – 

*why do I use the word ´once´..?..*

 - he winced, drew away from me involuntarily, I must have been careless, wrapped up in my thoughts, hurt him, or maybe got too close..

"I ´m sorry,  listen,I am sorry, hey, I didn´t mean to…´

I was aware of holding onto him, and let go of him, he had backed away slightly, my fingertips were still touching his skin, splaying lightly on the curve of his cheekbone as only not to hurt him anymore –

* just don´t , just be careful, stupid me!*

´..ok?´ I inquired.

He was still, lifted his gaze up to me once again, ´ok?´

finally, he nodded, and some of the rigidness seemed to ease out of him, he shifted his weight to sit beside me, I could feel him relax more, through the thin fabric of my shirt his skin was cold against my upper arm.

We sat like that for a few moments, then, his voice haughty and dry in the dark

 ´ I am glad you are here with me.´

He did not look at me, first, then I looked at him from the side. He moved closer, shivering slightly , I could make out goosebumps on his forearm, not covered by the cloak.

´I just ..can not tell …..´he just stopped in midsentence.

I averted my eyes and stared at my hands, clasped between my thighs.

 ´You do not have to. You know I won´t ..ask or..press you... I am glad you are with me as well. I would be lost otherwise…´

His choice of words started to rub off on me. He had a very composed and elegant way of expressing things, that did somehow contradict his age, …

He started at a sound from outside the cave, I felt him go stiff immediately, "the fire can´t be seen in here, we need rest, …"

I tried to calm him as well as myself; I was also frightened.  I tried to stay calm, if I´d let fear come over me, I knew, I´d never be able to stop it again.

I did not even know his name.  Beside me,  he relaxed visibly. 

´…it was nothing´.

I felt warmer already, the closeness of our bodies created at least some warmth with the small fire in front of us.

Once again he spread his, our, battered cloak around both of us, for the night, and we crouched even closer. We had rested like this the last three nights, the only time when he did not seem to mind physical contact was when the cloak was around us, and we tried to get warm. Maybe he just endured it, because we needed to share our body heat, kind of a survival instinct.

His skin was like ice. I felt so alone, I wanted to put my head back, lie down, just sleep, somewhere warm and comfortable, safe. 

I can not allow myself to give in to my fears. What must he have gone through? What was he going through still? I hadn´t asked him, he had been able to tell only fragments of what had happened so far, about the rest he couldn´t talk, he would just stop talking at all.

I did not know, whether he remembered or he chose not to. I had accepted his odd behaviour about being touched – i could only guess why he reacted in such a way – during the night though, when we needed each others warmth, it was different, somehow.

I hesitated, then slid my hands along his arm underneath the cloak , reaching for his fingers, slid mine through his and just held still. I knew this would be ok for him. We had sat like this throughout the past nights, however, never moving closer. After a while, it became almost comfortably warm under the strange cloth. 

It first had felt strange to me to touch him, he seemed so unlike me, smooth, like cool silk, never rough, sort of exotic. 

When we were resting for our first night together, and our hands had linked like children, just for warmth, it was then that I had found out, it did not feel strange at all. All I felt was warmth and a strange tinge of déjà vu. 

We moved closer together now, he did not recoil from my touch, and I was relieved. I wanted him to feel good about me, hoping to be able and offer him at least something to hold on to. And I needed someone to hold on to as well.

It must have been only hours later. It was pitch black around me, my heart thudded from being roused all too suddenly from sleep. First I did not know where I was, 

*what´s going on?*

 - I had registered his breath growing heavy first, agitated, then gasping. His leaving my side had completely woken me up – he was gone,leaving me frightened and shivering of cold in the blackness of the cave. When I managed to control my beating heart and tried to listen above my own breathing into the darkness around me, I first could make out nothing.

I drew the cloak around me tighter. I could make out shapes now, in the darkness. Then I heard a sound, from the direction of where I assumed the entrance to the cave. Again, I tried to calm my breath and drown out my own heartbeat just to hear. 

Slowly, I got up, still holding the cloak tighly wrapped around me. Somehow, I felt, there was nothing outside the cave, that would put any danger to us, I just felt the distress of another being almost like waves in the air.

He was standing at the entrance, arm against  the wall, his head low. I could hear him breathing hard, then it sounded as if he were choking, I thought first, but it was a dry, retching sound, he tried to calm down, his breathing again sounded like painful sobs. 

I just stood there, not sure what I should do. I´d want to be left alone, feeling like this, at least, for a while. I leant against the wall, just waiting. I could hear his stomach, heaving, and him, sobbing little sounds, when he drew in air. 

My heart went out to him, though I knew, I couldn´t help. It felt like physical pain in my chest, seeing, hearing him that way, what must they have done to him?

It had been like that before, one night,  he must have dreamt, I had not followed him then. Because I had not known what to do or how to help him.

I slowly turned and went back in. It was not pitch dark, after all, the fire still gave off a low shimmer of red gold coal. I felt for the water skin, finally found it. He was back, so quiet and still I hadn´t even heard him.

He sat down, a fluid movement, turning away from me, drawing his knees up to his chin, arms around them. I could hear his teeth chatter. I slowly got down next to him, making out his face in the faint  glow emanating from the fireplace.

I took off the cloak, from my shoulders, carefully arranging it over him, keeping in mind not to touch him...

He moved around, suddenly leaning his head against my shoulder. I almost did not dare to move – after a few seconds, when I felt him not withdraw, I moved, slightly, 

my shoulder out of the way, felt him draw back, but I reached around him, behind his neck and drew up the cloth to cover his shoulders and back. 

Kept my arm light on his shoulders, feeling bones and flesh like stone underneath. The slight movement until the chattering of his teeth ebbed away and his breath grew more calm. I sat, holding him, the cloak around him and me. The rocky wall bit into my smaller back, but I tried to ignore it. 

*Lucky that you´re alive in the first place* 

At some point throughout the night I must have drifted off. I woke to grey daylight filtering in through green foliage – his breath was warm on my neck – I only realized, he had moved close, cradled his head into the small hollow between my shoulder and neck. 

Somehow, he always seemed to smell like hay, dry and warm from the sun. I was aware that my arm was still around him, holding him close.


	2. Meetings in time

We had known each other forever. Though I did not know it then. But, let me start at the beginning.  
  
Life is strangely comforting in the anonymity of a big city. At least, for me it is. I find it relaxing to walk the streets alone at dusk, during the blue hours. No matter whether it is summer or a cool autumn evening. Or snowflakes silently falling out of a still leaden winter sky. I like to walk in silence, the reminisce and bathe in the feeling of the world around me. All this is not new to me. Somehow I have always felt closely connected with nature and everything in it. I loved to roam the woods when I was a child. It was magical, still, I had always been drawn to the city, boiling over with human life. Still though, I can feel the bounds, the roots go deep.  
  
Just a short time ago I came across the reason for all this. At least, part of it. I had to do some research on a text I had to translate. Some kind of lexika on herbs and their use for magical purposes. That was when I found out. Some things I needed to know about myself. Things I did not yet know then.  
  
Is it not always the wish to be something different that keeps one digging ? Digging for secrets, possibly undiscovered, about anything, about yourself? Sometimes you look for something different and stumble upon something else, completely dumbfounding. This is what happened to me. I found out about my heritage.  
  
********************  
  
I was trudging along, imagining I was NOT in a hurry. Which I seldomly am. Putting on the stress myself, I suppose. This is what some people might say. Anyways, I was trying to keep my thoughts off the deadline for my translations looming ahead. Instead, I focused on what I had to do next, before I would give the contact a call, about the meaning of the text. I was not sure, what exactly they meant. Hence, was not able to translate it correctly. Consequently, would net get paid in time. Tough luck.  
  
It was such a great day outside - god, I had really chosen the wrong profession. By the way, this is what I always think on days like these. The sun blazing from a perfectly blue spring sky, air crystql clear and fresh. You can smell blossoming green life on the soft wind.  
  
I had been able to figure out some of the meaning. These were old recipes, some of them not hard to translate because they were still being used today. Others used plants, herbs where I could decipher the meanng in latin, however, I could not definitely name them in English.  
  
A song popped into my thoughts, just like that, *somewhere over the rainbow, way up high.* it was just the perfect song for a perfect new spring moringing in march.  
  
*Focus on what you have to do , do not stray.* ok ok, trying to .  
  
I dialled the number given to me on my mobile. Waiting, while my computer started up. The phone locked between my shoulder and my chin, I set up some water to make tea.. ".Hello? " I had not expected anyone to pick up the phone so quickly.  
  
Stumbling over my words, almost losing the phone in my efforts to straighten out my thoughts and speak at the same time, I managed to say " yes, hello, am I connected with `folium viride`company? I am looking for .." ". rodney speaking .?" " -oh, hello, you´re just the one I was looking for, ..no, I meant, I was told to contact you, if I had any questions." the voice was soft and calm, almost soothing. ".who am I speaking to ? How can I help you?" " Listen, I am currently working on a translation for your company and was given your name as a person to contact if I had any questions."  
  
I had not expected to be able to solve my tranlation problems that early - the guy explained some of the things over the phone, even offered me to show me some of the plants, describe their origin, how they are kept and raised in our climate. Even, what they were used for back then. Struggling to get my car keys *thank god I keep them on one of those card bands* into the lock and keep my backpack in place at the same time, in my thoughs, I was already ahead in my thoughts, thinking about the address the guy had given me.  
  
I knew where I was headed, though, I could not remember, ever, having seen any flower or gardening shop there, or a greenhouse. Not even a park was near.. I wriggled deeper into the fur neck of my leather jacket and tried to make out the street on the little pocket map I kept in my car. No park indeed. Well, let´s see what I am up for here.  
  
*******  
  
I was in for a surprise. The house was one of the buildings erected around the 1920s or so. Old, façade ornated with richly carved window frames and a huge old iron gate- like door leading through to a courtyard. Once there, Icould not help but stand and stare. I took in the almost mediterranean athmosphere. Though it was early spring still, and the trees were still without any leaves, the little paths cutting through the still green grass, cropped short, were of black and white gravel, were obviously tended to carefully. The small stones crunched under my shoes, as I turned to the left. This is where I saw one of three stairways, leading up into the house. The full flowery smell of hyacinths in full blossom hit me - reminded me of when I was little, I saw purple and yellow crocuses blinking in the green of the grass- the four large trees in the center of the yard were maples - leaveless still, but old and huge, promising rich foliage and cool shelter from the hot sun during endless blazing summer days. While walking, I saw small banks built around the two largest trees, it looked strangely natural. Would be great to just sit there and read and . *focus ! this is nothing like "the secret garden" or anything, you are here to get some advice and then get back to work.*  
  
The walls surrounding the yard were left in red bricks, two of the staircases led up to galleries opening their arches onto to court yard. It looked more like an old monastery than a townhouse. Well kept though. It looked old, but not withered, and felt like a place where people loved to live; and yet, still and quiet, as if not many had found their way here so far.  
  
Thanks for the reviews, pls give me your thoughts on my work. ( 


End file.
